Shafted
by Ellipsis9
Summary: Patrick Jane usually plays mind tricks on other people, but now he's injured at the bottom of a mine shaft and his mind is playing tricks on him. Character wumph.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is mostly Patrick Jane wumph and involves no real case. There are some gruesome parts but I think they're mild enough to be rated K+. If you disagree on the rating I'd be happy to change it to T. The first few paragraphs start out slow to bring you in so be patient please. I admit this isn't my best writing, I'm just trying my hand out on wumph. Cheers. **

A setting sun in the California mountain tops found Patrick Jane resting against a tree along a narrow hiking trail. The sun's orange glow illuminated his blonde curls and made the miniscule beads of sweat on his forehead shine. At least he had the sense to change into jeans and sneakers for this expedition. He still wore the baby blue button down shirt and unbuttoned waistcoat from earlier in the day when he was there with the CBI investigating a double homicide.

Being stubborn, Patrick returned to the mountain, sure he would find a piece of evidence that he and the team missed the first time. Just a little higher up the hill and he could find the hiker's missing camera. Just a few more steps, he kept urging himself.

He cut off from the trail a few feet for a shortcut. He made some headway into a clearing. Patrick put his palm on the trunk of a bristlecone to steady himself, and feet placed unsteadily on…wooden planks? As Patrick realized this and look down there was a creak and the ancient wood boards started to split. A retired mine shaft sat below those boards! Paniced he tried to hop off the breaking boards. Only one foot managed to touch stable ground when the entire covering gave out.

Like a switch, gravity turned on, yanking Patrick down the now revealed mine shaft. Down he fell. Chunks of wood and earth followed his flailing arms and strangled cry. He crumpled under his own weight.

Still conscious he dared to open his eyes. Dust and debris settled around him in twisted, mangled body. Up, up, far above his head a square of light filtered through barely lightening the narrow shaft.

"Maybe this isn't so bad." Patrick said aloud, checking his injuries. "Nothing too serious.

He spoke too soon and when he looked up again one last piece of timber tumbled down. Closer it fell, closer…until.

~*~

"Da, da, da, daaa." Beethoven's Vernalise ring tone played on Patrick's cell for the thousandth time.

With a groan Patrick sat up. Bright spots danced everywhere in the dark shaft. Purple and yellow…and the music.

"It's a symphony in my pocket." He chuckled stupidly as he fumbled for his phone.

Dazed, he glared at the screen. Incoming call, Lisbon.

_But Lisbon is right in front of me._ He thought. _She's wearing a cocktail dress._ "Da, da, daaaa…"The incessant ring tone continued.

The hit to his head must have been damaging. His body was trashed; cut, mangled, but the pain hadn't reached him yet.

"What is it Lisbon?" He asked the dressed up Lisbon while massaging his temple. But the ring tone kept playing and the hallucination of Lisbon remained silent.

He dropped his hand from his head and pressed answer. "Going to a fancy dinner or something?"

"What are you talking about Jane? I'm working, and you should be too. Now where are you?" The purple dressed Lisbon seemed to say without moving her lips. Patrick simply brushed off this contradicting detail. In his mind she was there and solid.

"Jane? Didn't you hear me? Where are you?"

He looked around as much as he could. "I fell and now I'm in hell. I was wrong Lisbon, there really is an afterlife."

"Are you drunk?" Concern was now etched in her face, or at least the facsimile's make-up coated face.

Patrick looked down at his bare arms which looked like they'd been through a food processor. Little bits of flesh shredded on raw meat. He winced. "I wish."

"You don't sound right, I'm coming to get you." The real Lisbon stood up from her desk and started to put on her jacket.

"But you're already here. Don't waste time on me; go to your dinner party." He argued, allowing himself to fall back down on the rubble.

The hurry to put on her jacket greatened. "You said you fell. Where did you fall from?"

"Dunno."

"A window, a roof?"

The pain was starting to become evident suddenly. It was too much. Searing pain, and he closed his eyes and clenched his fist around the phone. His head throbbed and it felt like a thousand pound weight was on his chest, was on everything. Lisbon could hear his breathing quicken over the phone.

"Patrick! Stay with me. Where did you fall from?" She kept her cool as she started to use the department computer to track the GPS in his phone.

"I fell from the ground." He managed to gasp, his voice nasally. His nose started to bleed.

The bitter metallic taste dripped down into the back of his throat. He didn't have the strength to sit up again. The blood choked him. If only he could sit up. He had to swallow the mixture of saliva and blood. But he just couldn't breathe. _Air! Please! Air!_ The weight on his chest increased. He began to drown in his own blood.

_Help! _He cried in his mind, for he couldn't say it. His eyes searched frantically for the dressy hallucination of Lisbon. He saw her watching from afar, polishing her nails. _Help me! _

Patrick blacked out, just as the phone did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Merry Christmas everyone. Here is a gift for you all. Granted it's not wrapped and it's not even my best piece of writing. It may seem confusing in parts but you just have to roll with it. Sorry. Oh and thank you for the reviews everyone! They're much appreciated. **

"Jane! Jane! Wake up." Lisbon said gently, as she stood over his mangled body.

Patrick Jane came around as he took in a large gasp for air. Oh sweet, sweet oxygen! It was glorious air, even if it did have the pungent smell of blood and death. He opened one eye, and then the bloody bruised other, trying to look around in the dark.

"I'm gonna get you out of here. But you have to stand up."

Patrick rolled onto his stomach. He paused to catch his breath when just the task of rolling over drained him of all energy. He gagged on the smell of his own blood, and dry heaved a few times into the dirt.

"Get up." She commanded him.

"You could have a little sympathy for the man who just fell twenty feet." His voiced a little muffled considering his face was pressed against the cold ground.

"I don't have sympathy for maggots like you. Now drop and give me fifty push-ups!"

"I already did drop…twenty feet." Patrick mumbled, confused. He used his good arm to prop himself up onto his knees. Finally he got a good look at Lisbon. She was head to toe in army get up. The combat boots, camouflage cloths, and helmet made her look like a G.I Joe. Except she still wore dangly earrings and make-up that she had on when she was in the cocktail dress.

"I thought the cocktail dress was fine. Why did you change?" Apparently Patrick didn't find this new hallucination of Lisbon a concern. It just seemed normal to his concussed brain. He took a few more shallow breaths then used chunks of wood to lift himself up onto two unstable feet.

"There's only two exits out of here." She said, ignoring his question.

He leaned against a mine shaft support beam and his eyes followed Lisbon. She walked to one side of the shaft which had a dark tunnel leading off. Wind blew and sucked cold, musky air through the tunnel. It was like a vortex sucking reluctant souls towards it. Faint cries could be heard from within. He weakened at the sight of it and sagged against the support beam in agony. Every cut and scrape on his body burned.

Lisbon lifted one arm and pointed into the pit like tunnel. "Hell." She said softly.

Once again Patrick's eyes followed Lisbon as she crossed to the other side of the shaft. A tunnel lay here that was the antithesis of the other. White light radiated from it, a warm breeze wafted through the air bringing the fresh smell of grass. The rays of light tickled his fingertips and the pain he was feeling lessened.

Just as before, Lisbon lifted one arm and pointed. "Something better."

"What about that exit?" Patrick asked, pointing upwards to the hole which he fell through.

"That's just a world that turned its back on you. A world that killed your family, a world that put you in this situation. If you go back you can just go about your daily life, pretending you're okay with being in that world." Lisbon said walking closer to Patrick, building in intensity. "Pretending to not want death. Pretending that every moment of living _isn't_ sheer mental anguish. The guilt! The remorse! Sure you smile, you work hard, but deep down, every night when you go to bed you see that sign in blood on your bedroom wall!"

"How do you know that?" He cried out, his body sagging against the support beam til he sat on the ground.

"You want to die, don't you?"

He anxiously looked around for a way out of this. "I don't want to die. I love life."

"Really? Then why are you willing to throw it all away?" Lisbon argued as she looked down at him.

"When have I ever come close to throwing life away?" He said, looking away from her piercing eyes.

"You want to kill Red John. If you succeeded then you throw everything away, and spend the rest of your life locked away."

He silently blinked up at her. No energy to argue, no arguments to argue…just helplessness.

"So which exit for Mr. Jane?" She sneered. "You know you're guilty, it's your fault your family is dead. You don't deserve something better. But then again…" Her face softened. "You catch killers, you give to the poor, and you care about your co-workers."

"I'm compassionate."

"Hmm…" Lisbon sat down on the ground to be at eye level with Patrick. "Why is it that you have so much compassion for everyone but yourself? In order to truly love others you must first love yourself."

Patrick instinctively rolled his red, swollen eyes. "So now I'm sharing a mine shaft with Plato. Great."

"Tell me which exit you deserve Jane. Tell me."

"Those exits aren't real. There is nothing after death."

"Is that what you want to believe?" Lisbon asked as she made little swirls in the dirt with a splinter of wood.

"Yes! Yes of course it is. I don't want to work my whole life just to end up burning in Hell!"

"So you _do_ think you're going to Hell."

"No! I mean, I wouldn't want Heaven or Hell."

"Why wouldn't you want Heaven?"

"I just want it to be over!" He begged.

"Okay! If you want it over then just die already." She stood up in frustration. "You're so sure that there is nothing after death then go ahead and let go." She stood in the middle of the shaft, between the two tunnels.

Patrick looked at her as if she was crazy. "I don't want it to be over yet. Are you insane? I still have something to live for."

"And what might that be?"

Patrick was about to respond but stopped himself.

Lisbon smiled knowingly. "All you have to live for is capturing Red John and killing him."

He looked down, defeated. "Yes, it's all I have to live for."

His mind continued to imagine this very different imitation of Lisbon pacing to one tunnel and then the other.

In reality, outside of his conflicted mind, Patrick Jane hadn't even woken up after blacking out. He fitfully slept among the rubble and in his dream he was torturing himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone for the reviews. I don't deserve such kind words. I'm just a 16 year old girl who wrote a story. I kept trying to write this third chapter but nothing came out right. Took me forever. I didn't know how to continue. Thank all the people who prodded me to write. I know this chapter probably won't live up to your expectations. It's not all that good, but if ****words be the food of love, read on! **

He was unconscious, his head inclined against a piece of rotted wood. The rotted wood that trapped him down here to die. Rivulets of blood traveled down over his closed bruised eyelids. His body trembled violently every other minute. Yellow pus had formed out of the cut on his leg…infection. His body was dying but his dreaming mind was much too alive.

"Tell me Jane. Why did you live a life of lies?" Lisbon looked down at Patrick Jane shivering on the damp earth.

"Did? But…but I'm still alive." He said weekly, patting his arms and chest, as if to make sure he was tangibly there.

"For now," she shrugged. "Did you think you were doing good? You lied to everyone. Nothing but lies on talk shows, to police, to the poor widows who just wanted comfort but were all fed lies. Dishonest! Uncaring!"

Patrick shut his eyes tight and tried to control his ragged breathing. Lisbon's words kept penetrating his mind.

She continued still. "Heartless! A crook!"

"Stop!" His yell echoed off the dirt walls.

The hallucination of Teresa Lisbon was silenced. The shaft seemed to swallow up all the sound, all the feeling.

He let his head drop and spoke quietly, almost a whisper. "Just…just stop." But he didn't look up. Everything felt fuzzy, unreal. Realization hit Patrick Jane. "You're not Lisbon."

"What do you mean?" He heard her say from the dark.

"Lisbon couldn't…_wouldn't _ever…"He struggled for words. "Ever hurt me."

"Then how do you explain how I'm here? Talking to you."

He lifted his head and starred at her. "Evil twin? No, no." He waved away that idea. "One Lisbon is enough. The world wouldn't be able to handle two."

She smiled warmly. "You know Jane. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to help you. I have to convince you to give up this crazed obsession over killing Red John."

Lisbon sat down next to him, her voice now carrying an air of warning. "In a few years you're going to make a choice that will set off a chain reaction of events. These events will lead to…this." She whispered despairingly as the shaft lightened in the corners to reveal twelve or so dead bodies.

"Where did they come from?" He asked in horror, trying to scoot away from the dead.

"This is your dumping ground." She explained calmly. "Or at least it will be."

"I did this. I…I _will _do this." He stared at the dead bodies but didn't see them.

Slowly, Lisbon stood up, and helped Patrick up too. "Why did you do it Jane?" She asked, her voice understanding and professional, how she sounded when interrogating a suspect.

He shook his head, trying to shake off the cloud of confusion in his mind. "They deserved it." He spoke unsure, eyes darting from Lisbon to the decaying.

"There was a catalyst to all of this you know." She motioned to the dead. "A catalyst that once broken down, made you into a killer who killed killers." Lisbon walked over to one body whose face wasn't visible and knelt down beside it, not in a caring way but as if examining it. "He was your first kill."

Standing there, Jane realized who it must be. "Red John." He couldn't breath right, couldn't think right. His whole body tensed. His blue eyes changed. The soft cerulean irises turned a dark and beastly black. "RED JOHN!" He rushed towards the body of his enemy. He grabbed the limp shoulders and flipped him over. Jane recoiled in horror and staggered backwards to get away from the body looking up at him.

The dead man on the ground was Agent Kimball Cho.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: For those who prodded me to continue. This chapter wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. **

"H-how?" Patrick Jane stuttered, the face of his teammate, a good man, drifting in and out of focus. "Where's Red John?" He swallowed hard as a wave of nausea passed over him. The stench of rotting flesh was in his nose, his mouth.

Lisbon looked down at the crumpled mess on the ground named Patrick Jane. She spoke calmly again. "You see? You still have this obsession. You've realized you killed a great agent, a friend even, but you go right back to this manhunt for Red John. You're despicable Jane. Vile!" She spat out the last word, and turned away.

The anger and passion rose in Lisbon when she looked over her shoulder at Patrick Jane. He kept his face hidden in his trembling hands.

His voice croaked out softly and slowly. "I didn't…I…I won't. Why. Why?"

Lisbon spun around, a twist of emotions playing across her face. Anger, hate, grief. She let herself cry out. " He was _my_ partner! _Your _partner. If it had been Rigsby…or Van Pelt, capturing Red John then one of them would have gotten a bullet in the chest doing their job. But Cho…" She shoke her head, rage ebbing into pain and acceptance. "Cho got to Red John first. You got there second. We arrived on the scene just moments too late, you were gone…Red John was gone. Agent _Cho _was gone. Gone forever."

Patrick Jane slid his hands away from his face but didn't look at Lisbon. "Then I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. He got in the way. But why didn't I stay? Where did I go? Where did _he _go."

"We never found either of you. But Red John killed again. And _you _killed again." She sadly gestured to the dozen or so bodies around them.

To Patrick Jane they now seemed even more frightening. "I became a killer who killed killers. Why? Lisbon just tell me! Why? Did they all deserve it? Why?"

"Stop it!" She cut him off. "It doesn't matter if you killed to get closer to Red John, or for vengeance or simply because you snapped. All that matters is that you stop it! You stop it from happening Jane!"

She sighed and sat down next to him. "You've been on a dangerous track Jane. You forget right and wrong, you've come to hate yourself for what happened to your family. But you matter Jane. You matter. Who cares about Red John when you need to forgive yourself. Killing Red John won't mean anything. You'll still feel this way."

Patrick Jane didn't look at her. He heard what she said but couldn't see her. Nothing was there anymore. Pain was there. Pain was everywhere.

The world of dead bodies was fading away and the real world was coming in. Jane just had to hold on.


	5. Chapter 5

The crackle of walkie talkies broke the midnight air. The shadows from 8 men and 2 women moved up the switchback trails, their flashlight beams breaking up the darkness.

"Jane! Lisbon cried out, the cold air stinging her face and the back of her throat as she took each labored breath. "Damn it Jane!"

Agent Rigsby, a good fifty meters ahead spotted the familiar landmarks surrounding the old crime scene from earlier that day. His flashlight dropped to the side as his long legs picked up pace and ran blindly towards the tree that Jane stopped at only a few hours ago.

Suddenly, Rigsby lost his footing as the earth began to crumble under him. He fell backward to avoid sliding with the rocks into the giant pit below. "Hey!" He grasped onto a tree root and his flashlight tumbled downward. The distorted rays of light hit the shaft walls until a single bright beam came to rest on the earthen shaft floor.

The rest of the team caught up quickly, lending arms to Rigsby. Lisbon watched wearily from a distance, too afraid to glance into the hole that _shouldn't_ be there. The hole that _wasn't _there before, but was now.

Rigsby dusted himself off now that he was upright. "Well, Jane said he fell from the ground," he almost joked, not allowing himself to believe that Patrick Jane was actually in there.

But he then turned around to examine the pit. "Wait! Guys! He's in there! I see him." The flashlight that had fallen was now aimed directly at Patrick Jane, a crumpled, bloody mess underneath rotten wood and rock.

The search leader, Martin Sanders, snapped into action. "Call the rest of the team in! Give them our coordinates. We need proper harnesses and rope. Someone needs to get down there."

"Sanders!" Lisbon ran to his side, as he began to radio out information. "How long until we can get in there?" She asked breathlessly.

The crew leader waved the radio in her face. "Give me a moment _woman_! I'm doing my job!" Theresa Lisbon flinched at his words but let him continue. "It'll be at least twenty minutes. The only repelling equipment we have right now is meant for belaying water and supplies. The rope and chassis I have can't hold anything over 120 pounds."

Lisbon made a quick decision. "I may be a _woman_." She emphasized the same word he had. "But I worked four summers straight of search and rescue, two fire crew, and I am not going to let twenty minutes idly pass while one of _my_ men dies down there! I don't care if I have to dangle by dental floss to get to him! I am going in!"

Sanders eyed her carefully, calculating her weight and her determination. "You under 120?"

Lisbon breathed carefully and smiled against all likelihood. "I am under…120."

~*~*~*~

_What if death was only death? What if…after you cross that fine line between this world and the next, you come to find that there is no other world? Some believe in reincarnation. It's a well accepted thought that you come back again and again until you finally get life right. When you get it right, you've reached nirvana. Is nirvana heaven? Heaven is something other people believe. If you did life right, kinda' like the other with the other idea, you get to this place of absolute fulfillment. My little girl was born with a short Achilles tendon in her left ankle. She was limited to walking. When we talked about death once, she said that in heaven, you're given a new body. She said that she would go running first, and then she would hike and maybe join a track team of angles. _

_My wife told me that everyone meets five people when they go to heaven. She said they'd all be people she somehow affected during her life on earth. I don't know if she ever met those five people, and I don't know if my little angle is jumping hurdles with other winged friends. But I do hope that they're happy. And that if there is something after death, that something is them. I'll find out soon. _


End file.
